We Belong Together
by mxoc
Summary: When your world is ripped out from under you in the span of ten minutes, who do you turn to? When no one really knows or understands what you've experienced, how do you cope? Follow me, Gemma Fitchner, as I attempt to figure out this mess that is my life.


Chapter 1: Slipped Away

_'I didn't get around to kiss you  
Goodbye on the hand  
I wish that I could see you again  
I know that I can't_

Oooooh  
I hope you can hear me cause I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away  
Was the day I found it won't be the same  
Ooooh' -'Slipped Away' by Avril Lavigne

* * *

Every year begins the same: in the Hospital Wing. I'm in here every year for a week or so at the very start of term. It's always one thing or another. The first time, it was an awful reaction to a cherry flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean. My brother, Trayvin, says it's amazing I got a cherry flavoured bean to begin with. Normally, I would have gotten earwax or spinach flavoured ones, but lucky me, I got cherry!

Ever since I was very small I've had a horrible time with cherries. It doesn't even have to be a real cherry. It can be artificially flavoured, processed, preserved, you name it, I'll have an allergic reaction to it. Thankfully, I blacked out before it got too bad, so at least I didn't have to endure all the digits on my left side inflating while I was awake. By the time I woke up a few days later, I had deflated. Madam Pomfrey was brand new to the school, just like I was, so we got along fine. At first. Then she told me what she would have to do to me.

The potion she had given me to deflate my fingers and toes had worked marvelously, she said. Unfortunately, in giving me the potion, she had risked all the bones in my hands and feet breaking down and turning to dust. This, she informed me, is exactly what had happened. When I looked down and saw that my hand was in fact flat as a pancake, I fainted. Again. I tend to do that a good bit. As it was, by the time I woke up, all the bones had completely re-grown, and I had escaped an otherwise painful night.

The second time, I wasn't so lucky.

I had to go to the toilet. Not just a slight small urge to take a trip to the loo. No, more like the pressing need that will bring about the end of you if nothing is done quickly. Like I said, I had to go to the toilet. We had almost reached the castle, but I knew the call of nature wouldn't wait. There was only one problem. I could hear a group of third year boys having it out right outside my door.

Cautiously, I drew the gray curtain that covered the circular window on the door to the side to further inspect the situation at hand. If I craned my neck far enough, to the right I could see a group of three, no, four boys.

Standing at the front of the group, acting as a sort of point, was a boy of about 5'7 sporting Gryffindor school robes and rectangular framed glasses. His ever messy hair looked particularly disheveled and his hazel eyes showed rage only to be matched by his one true love, Lily Evans. This was James Potter.

To Potter's left was another boy in Gryffindor robes. His hair was a sandy blonde, and he stood about an inch higher than James. Lines of worry creased his forehead as he tried (and failed) to stop the madness. He had a wolfish glint in his eye: as though the studious façade was all an act. Remus Lupin was his name.

The boys began to slowly advance; James with his swagger and Lupin his dutiful rove. The change in position allowed me a better look at the third point of their menacing triangle (the fourth, Peter Pettigrew, I think his name was, had disappeared. Gone to cower in a dark corner somewhere, I expect.).

The boy had black hair. Long, black hair. Well, not really long, but longer than most boys at Hogwarts wore theirs. His clothes, like his hair, fit his name perfectly: Black. Sirius Black. Standing at no less than 5'9, he was quite good looking. Oh, let's admit it. He was amazingly, breathtakingly, indescribably gorgeous. But I wasn't fooled. Oh no! I knew better. I had heard stories, rumours, of the Marauders (that's what they called themselves). They were heartbreakers. Everyone knew it.

The three stopped, lowering their wands. Potter said something I couldn't hear, nodded at Black, and made to leave. The "fight" looked to be over, and I still had to pee. So, I unlatched the door to the compartment I had previously occupied and slipped into the hallway, closing the door with a soft click. This click however was enough to gain the notice of a certain Sirius Black. I ignored his turning figure and meandered out into the otherwise unoccupied hallway, or so I thought.

I looked in the opposite direction of Black to find I was not as alone as I had previously assumed. There was Severus Snape (right greasy git if you're asking my opinion) in all his glory, eyes closed, breathing ragged, wand raised. I turned this information over in my mind for half a second.

Eyes closed, breathing ragged, wand raised…wand raised…Snape…

Oh bugger.

And that was it. I wet myself. I soiled my undergarments for I knew that no good could come from this unfortunate situation. That and well, I just couldn't hold it any longer. Snivillus (a nickname I had lovingly adopted for dear Severus) took a deep breath, and…

"Snape! No! Stop!" Bellowed a flushed Sirius as I turned my head toward his advancing figure.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Snape roared, his eyes popping open just in time to find that he had missed Potter and his posse, and, rather, hit me.

"No!" he groaned, regretting his failure to harm his targets (but pleased to have hit me, I assure you), as indescribable, beastly pain enveloped my entire being. I numbly reached up to my forehead in attempt to stop the gushing wound as invisible swords ripped mercilessly at my flesh. The train came to a screeching halt, and I fell to the ground, barely conscious.

I heard muttering, almost rhythmic, enchanting, and the slashing stopped, though the pain persisted. I remember shouting, then strong arms hoisting my limp figure off the blood dampened carpeting. And then I blacked out completely. I do that a lot, remember? Although, if unbearable pain isn't good enough of a reason to faint, I don't know what is.

For the next two weeks, I slipped in and out of consciousness. Whether this was due to the extent of my injuries or the vast amount of potion that had been forced into my system, I'll probably never know.When at last I was fully aware, I had only a scar here and there where I had been cut repeatedly. Those, I was told, were permanent.

Knowing that sitting in the hospital wing for three more days and staring at the adjacent wall would be pure torture, I took to opening my mail. Among the small, but respectable pile was a note from Trayvin expressing his joy in my recovery and his attitude of gratitude that Winn, our younger brother, would not be starting Hogwarts till the next year. He included a small package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. I'm still trying to decide if this was a joke.

There was also a get well card from Lily Evans, though I'm convinced this was simply because she wants to be named Head Girl one day, and she's practically required to do good deeds. I kept it anyway, though. There was a batch of chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties from the Great Hall and a vase of sparking flowers, all from Professor Dumbledore. I quickly devoured the sweets and moved the flowers as far away from me as possible. You can never be too careful.

Finally, there was a bag of liquorice wands and a note. It read,

_"Dear Gemma, we, the Marauders,"_

I picked up the wands and dumped them in the bin. Who knew what had been done to them?

_"feel that it is necessary for us to apologize for the ridiculously unfortunate events that occurred on the Hogwarts Express nearly a fortnight ago. It is our sincerest hope that you make a speedy recovery and are back on your feet in the near future. Yours, whenever we can be of service, the Marauders—James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew—PS-We'll beat the snot out of Snivillus, trust us."_

I snorted as a re-read the last line. Trust them? I had a list of rules that I stuck to no matter what.

1. Avoid Filch at all costs.  
2. Don't take sweets from strangers.  
3. Never trust a Marauder.

So, now I'm here in the hospital wing, waiting for life to end and third year to start. This year's mishap wasn't near as bad as last year's. One of the smaller trunks fell from the over head compartment as the train stopped, and landed on my head, breaking my nose, and, of course, knocking me out. But what's new, right? I had absolutely no clue what time it was, my head ached something awful, and I could hear loud, clomping footsteps echoing through the corridor outside the wing.

"Winn, slow down!" I could hear voices now. "It's not as though she's on her death bed!" a boy huffed, exhausted.

"I'm not slowing down! You just need to get your fat behind up the stairs a bit quicker, is all." One set of footsteps came to a halt outside the doors, the other following in suit. The massive oak doors slowly, painfully opened, revealing two boys with the same curly blonde hair and blue eyes, one the younger version of the other.

"Gemma!" the younger one cried, clearly glad I was alive. Not that I was close to death to begin with.

"Why hello, Winn. Fancy seeing you here!" I brushed some loose hair out of my eyes. I am a blonde. Blonde haired and hazel eyed. You would think I would have blue eyes, right? No? Well maybe you would if you knew that I am the only one left in my family who doesn't have blue eyes.

People have always said my hazel eyes are what make me special, unique. If that's the only thing remarkable about me, then I am a small, sad person. The thing is, even my god parents have blue eyes. I'm not even related to them by blood! I know lots of people have blue eyes, but still.

My Dad had hazel eyes.

At least, that's what people tell me. I don't remember him too well. He died when I was four. He had a cancerous tumour in his brain. I've heard those are the worst kind, but I don't know. That's just what I've heard. I have one picture of my Dad. It was taken about a year before he was diagnosed. It's of him and my Mum, and they're sitting on a bench in a park somewhere. I've never had to wonder if they really loved each other. I can tell just by looking at that picture, that one moment frozen in time that they did. Very much. Mum is smiling that big smile she always used to wear plastered across her porcelain face.

When I was really small, I can remember watching her get ready to go out wither her friends and thinking she looked just like a china doll. In that one picture I can see how happy she used to be, her blue eyes sparkling. I can't see my Dad's eyes. He's too busy staring at Mum. But people tell me he had hazel eyes. I believe them.

"You're okay though, right?" Trayvin asked sceptically as he and Winn began making their way toward the exit. "I mean, they'll be letting you out soon, right? Before dinner maybe?" Trayvin is a special type of person. He's just what a big brother ought to be; protective, generous, loving. It's not easy to find guys like Trayvin these days.

"I'll be out tonight," I assured him. "Probably before dinner." He nodded and quickly ushered Winn out of the room. It was quiet. Extremely quiet. I hate being alone. Silence is just so…so loud! It's kind of funny because I'm alone an awful lot. I don't really have many real friends aside from my brothers and sister, Sofi. She's a year younger than Winn, and will be starting Hogwarts next year. I sighed, leaning back in the soft pillows, allowing the silence to envelope me like a cloud. With that, I drifted off to sleep.

_I could see it in the distance: a faint light slowly headed toward me. I couldn't tear my eyes from it. I could hear the soft hum of the engine and the gentle beat coming from the radio. Then I felt it: a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," it said, a choked sob echoing through the car. "Please, please, Gemma. Forgive me." I didn't respond. "I don't have any choice," the voice begged. "I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this because I love you. So much." The light was brighter now. It was so close. I knew it would crash into me if nothing was done fast. "I love—what's happening?" It was right on me now, engulfing me in its blinding rays. The hand dropped from my shoulder..._

And I woke up.

I didn't open my eyes at first. I could hear the shuffling of feet coming into the room. Probably more visitors. I squeezed one of my eyes open ever so slightly to get a look at what was going on. Through my blurry vision, I could just make out a figure stealthily manoeuvring his way around my bed to the table next to me. He looked over at me. I quickly shut my eye, not wanting to be caught looking. There was some more shuffling, and a thud followed by a string of profanities aimed at a nearby chair.

"Mr. Black!" Now was probably a good time to wake up, I decided finally. "Visiting hours are over!" I opened both my eyes, observing the scene before me with growing amusement. Sirius winced at the shrillness of Madam Pomfrey's scold.

"Oh, come on Poppy! I'm just delivering a little something for dearest Gemma here from my friends and me, out of the goodness of my heart. I assure you, there's no need for that." He put his hands in front of him protectively, as Madam Pomfrey advanced on him, wand in hand.

"Out means out, Mr. Black!" Madam Pomfrey warned, putting her wand away. Sirius lowered his hands in mock relief. "I suggest you say your helloes and goodbyes quite swiftly," she put both her hands on her pudgy hips, tapping her foot menacingly, "or I shall have to remove you by force." I had to suppress a snort of laughter at this last comment. The thought of Madam Pomfrey (all 5'1" of her) removing someone, anyone, by force was just too much. Sirius grinned, bowing to the nurse.

"Certainly, milady." Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, and shuffled from the room muttering something about "that boy and his sarcasm."

"I was just coming to give you this." Sirius held up a white envelope after Madam Pomfrey had left the room. "From us, to you." He grinned, his dimples coming out from hiding. He had grown since end of term. That was obvious. He was dangerously close to passing the six foot marker, and his black hair was different somehow. More tame, falling smoothly over his left eye, almost effortlessly.

"You'd best hurry out of here." His eyes suddenly clouded over in concern. "It's quite probable that your brother will have a breakdown of some sort if you're not out of here come dinner." He winked, sending butterflies into the pit of my stomach. It was pathetic, really. I hated that he had that affect on me. That he was able to give me that feeling: the one that makes you feel like someone is trampolining off your stomach. He was just too good looking.

There was also the small detail that he was in fact male. All boys (save those I was related to) tended to have that affect on me. Even Peter Pettigrew made me nervous.

"They say I'll be out in an hour or so," I spoke up confidently. I never let people know when I'm uncomfortable or nervous. I like to seize hold of the situation; take control, if you will. I didn't like people to know my weaknesses.

"Good." He smiled again. "I'll be going then." I nodded, and he walked towards the door, leaving me once again at the mercy of the quiet.

* * *

It's funny how many people you meet when someone you love dies. I've never been a fan of funerals. I've only been to two, and that's two too many in my opinion. The worst part about them is the looks you get during and afterwards. It's those sympathetic glances and words of comfort that really get to me. It's the people who think they know what they're talking about, who think they're doing you a favour, that irk me the most. I think that's why I got on so great with my God parents from the start. They didn't tell me a story about how great my Mum was growing up, or about the time my Dad put a love potion in the pumpkin juice of the girl he fancied. In fact, they didn't say anything. Audra (my god mother) stepped up and gave me an unbelievably tight hug, squeezing all of my breath out of me. It was more than enough.

* * *

I made it to dinner.

Barely.

I got there about half way through the feast, clutching the envelope Sirius had dropped off at the wing earlier that day. I walked through the great oak doors, desperately searching for a familiar face. I looked over toward the Slytherin table, spotting Severus Snape, his nose buried deep in his Defence Against the Dark Arts text. I had still not forgiven him for what he had done to me in second year, even if it had been by mistake.

"Gemma!" I heard someone call my name from down the hall. I turned in the direction of the voice, to see Winn waving frantically at me from his spot amongst my fellow Gryffindors. So Winn was a Gryffindor now as well. I smiled, thankful that he was in the same house as Trayvin and me.

"And so I said 'Go out with me, Evans.' And she said 'I would go out with the giant squid before I would you'. Can you believe that?" James Potter raged to Trayvin as I approached the table.

"I'd never have guessed," Trayvin replied sarcastically, glancing up at me as I sat down across from him and next to Sirius. Normally, I would have sat a bit further down the table with some of the girls in my dorm, but I wanted to let Trayvin know I was okay. I placed the envelope beside my place setting, and reached across the table for the bread basket, bringing back a roll and setting it carefully on my plate.

"Haven't opened our letter yet?" Sirius questioned.

"No, not yet." I turned to my right to select a chicken leg, careful to cover my flaming face. Trayvin grinned at my discomfort. He was one of the few who knew about how easily I was embarrassed. "It's alright, I suppose," Sirius continued, smacking loudly on the piece of ham that was covering his plate. "Nothing important written there, just a get well card really." He waved his fork in the air as he spoke.

"Good to know," I offered lamely.

"MAIL!" I heard someone shriek from down the table. We all looked up simultaneously as the thunderous flapping commenced. I glanced at Winn who was almost jumping up and down in his seat with anticipation. We had told him all about the excellent goodies that were sent from home during the school year. I waited expectantly for the snow white owl, Camille, belonging to Audra to come swooping down from the rafters, bringing with her a package containing an array of scrumptious sweets.

It didn't come.

Instead, a large brown owl came flying over head, dropping its charge onto the table directly in front of Trayvin. He looked at me quizzically, before seizing the envelope and ripping it open. He quickly scanned the parchment, his eyes growing larger with every line. After he was finished, he looked at me dumbly, his hand jutting out to hand me the paper. I grabbed it, brows furrowed.

_To __Trayvin Fitchner__  
__It is with our deepest sympathies we inform you that __Audra and Phillip Boyd__ were involved in an accident early this morning involving the rise of dark forces such as this world has never known. There were no survivors— _  
My world came to a screeching halt. I stared blankly at the sheet of parchment, willing it to go away; hoping that the words would somehow rearrange themselves to form a more pleasant message. I felt hot breath on my neck and a hand move to my lower back, gently messaging, soothing me.

"Sofi," was all I said. I knew what was going to happen to my little sister now that there was no one to take care of her. She would go to a home. It was something we had all promised ourselves we would never let happen after Mum died. Now there was nothing we could do.

"You do what you can," a voice I recognized as belonging to Sirius whispered in my ear. "Under the circumstances." It was simple, but just enough. I stood up, ignoring the rumble of my stomach, and headed out of the Great Hall. I was clutching two letters now. Two letters that changed everything. I

t was hard to describe the way I felt just then. Numb, I guess.

Because I didn't _feel_ anything.

And that is the worst feeling there is.


End file.
